Empty Spaces
by Swamy
Summary: What makes them... them. Spoilers for ep. 4.01. beta: phantomcreedylover
1. Prologue: Key to the Reading

Eliot is very aware of any lesson life teaches him.

Boxing taught him the value of personal space. Martial arts taught him the importance of staying in control of emotions. Being a commander taught him that a man like him can't have any of the things other men can.

He doesn't get desperate in tough situations. He doesn't let himself be overwhelmed by emotions. He's faced Death every day of the last twenty five years of his life, and he's not impressed by it. When his moment comes he will accept it in the same phlegmatic way he accepts anything else.

Parker can't do that now.

He watches her upset face and feels her emotions bumping from wall to wall in that cave, hitting him hard in the middle of his chest. Eliot tightens his jaw and looks at her with a stoic face hoping she will breathe his control and get a hold of herself.

Of course, count on Parker to not do anything he wants her to.

She has her own strange, bizarre way. The way of a child. Innocent and naive, in her criminal lifestyle. And like a child she can do anything she wants in her own world.

In that world of grand theft and impossible air ducts she is alone, just like he is in his. But in that world she comes across shiny things, not dead bodies. For that she's not prepared. He knows she needs to be, but it doesn't mean he's happy about it.

He will lock her inside her bubble anytime he can, but right now she needs to see the only reasonable way to go. The only reasonable, useful thing they can do. Because they are the only ones who _could _ever do it.

She's strange and childish and gets on his nerves half the time. However, she's learned self-preservation like no one else – but him – did. No one else looked out for her but herself.

She's new to the sweetness Hardison is teaching her; she's new to the sisterhood Sophie is teaching her; she's new to the justice Nate is teaching her.

She's new to the loss and the regret and the guilt she's learning from a dead man on a mountain. Parker wants to do the right thing. She's louder than he is, and she cries, and her watery eyes become so big, and her heart is so broken than he doesn't know how to deal with her.

Eliot is used to pure violence, to walking on razor blades and parrying fatal blows. He's not used to this, to the openness Parker forces him to face; her tears make him feel useless and weak and make him stupidly wish his arms were more fitting to hug and comfort than to hit and break. What he can do right now is to make her understand that she is stronger than that, that she can survive this and make something good out of it. They both can, because they are different and wrong in they own way, but they are what they are, what no one else can be. The key to the reading of each other's heart.

This is why he can get to her through her tears and her absence of rules and order. This is why she can nullify his demand of personal space and fill it with tender oddity and big smiles.


	2. Everything she wants

"I want cookies."

Eliot jumps - on the inside, because there are appearances to maintain, even if there's no one around at the moment and Parker is too absorbed by her sudden hunger for cookies to notice she scared the hell out of him.

"Damn, Parker," he growls, turning his head to glance over his shoulder at her.

She moves so silently that she can stroke anyone to death.

No one (else) surprises him, ever, and sometimes he finds himself wondering if she can do it because of her ability or because he lets her. Because he knows that for how awkward and abnormal she can be, he can lower his defences with her.

Parker looks at him smiling, obviously waiting for the cookies she's asked for.

He shows her the empty plate he was about to wash. She frowns "I want cookies." she repeats.

"There's a piece of cake in the fridge." He informs her.

"But a cake is _not_ cookies!" She answers in a tone that tells him she's actually pondering the possibility.

"Call Hardison and tell him to buy them on his way here."

"But they're not _yours._ I like yours best." she replies with a smile.

Eliot breathes in, than out. He is capable to stand torture without flinching. He mastered the art of systematically observing, accepting, understanding and training each of the levels of his persona. He endured electrocution, beating, bone breaking, cutting, drowning, flagellation, foot whipping, sleep deprivation, starvation, Palestinian hanging and nearly an abacination by separating his conscious mind from his body. He's a machine trained to have the perfect control- to use his threatening attitude to get attention and command. When Parker talks he can feel his control going out of the window and his jaw tightening to a breaking point. She makes him angry, and intolerant, and frustrated. She makes him crazy. And very human.

"Then I'm going to make you cookies." He surrenders, knowing it's the only way she will stop bothering the hell out of him. He is still wearing his apron, and cooking always relaxes him, so he supposes it's not a big deal.

"Yay!" Parker clapped once, literally jumping as she did so.

"But you stay completely still," he orders.

"Oh…" and suddenly everything is quiet, in a very unnatural way. He turns his eyes so find her standing so very still, with her arms forced along the sides of her thin body. Her eyes fixed on a point on the wall. She looks like a mannequin from a mall, and he tries to hold onto his patience.

"I meant that you need to sit down and be quiet, Parker."

"Oh!" She says again, more brightly this time. "That's good," She relaxes, relieved that she can actually move from that position.

He senses her moving behind his back and hears her sitting on the table, with her legs crossed.

"Being quiet means that I can't talk to you?"

"Exactly,"

"What if I really, _really_ need to talk to you?"

"Do you need to?"

"No, but what if I do?"

"If it's important then you can."

"And how do I know if it's important?" She tenses up again.

Eliot feels like he can explode right now so he takes it out on the butter, beating it until it's smooth and creamy. He adds white and brown sugars and beat it until it's fluffy.

However he tries, he can't help but feel her tense body waiting for his answer.

"If there is a life or death situation involved: meaning that you are losing blood or are about to be sick or you see the laser point of a sniper rifle aiming at either of us, then you can talk." he clarifies.

"Gotcha!"

She makes no noise; usually his brain would be alert to capture every signal of her presence, his body would be ready for any sudden move she can make, instead he feels her presence and inside of him everything is calm.

He puts the cookies inside the oven and starts cleaning the counter top and the kitchen tools he used. It takes him about ten minutes, and when he is finished the cookies are ready.

Eliot takes them out of the oven and turns to put the baking sheet on the cooling rack on the table. Instead, he finds Parker with her legs crossed on the table, with the rest of her body hanging upside down like she is a bat. Her long blond hair brushed the wood floor slightly.

"Parker what the H-" but he stops immediately, realizing she fell asleep. Just like that, hanging upside down.

She could resist Palestinian hanging too, he thinks.

He leaves the sheet next to her, and shakes his head. She will surely wake up with a bad headache in the best case if she stays like that, so he bends and puts a hand behind her back and one under her thighs, lifting her.

"There's something wrong with you," he whispers, more to himself, so he will not wake her.

She rubs her face against his shoulder, burying her face in the crook of his neck, smiling against his skin, sighing blissfully like he just said something sweet to her.

Eliot can't help but smile, while he lays her down on the couch.

When Parker wakes up, under the warm shelter of a blanket, the first thing she sees is a plate of cookies awaiting her on the coffee table.


	3. The apple of his eye

Parker slips inside the apartment with unusual carefulness to be sure to not make any noise. She is holding a paper bag using both arms, and closes the door using her feet.

She raises her head so her chin rests on top of the bag, which would not close because it was too full.

The room is, as per usual, empty but for a _tatami_ under a futon, and the candy house she gave him the last Christmas.

She's good at being silent, but not so much at carry heavy things when they are not properly packed. So when the apples fall out of her paper bag, she stays completely still, listening to the sound they make bouncing on the floor, fixing her eyes on a suddenly awake Eliot.

He looks at her, annoyed but not startled, and she smiles giving him an '_oops' look._

"Would you mind explaining me what are you doing?" He asks her while he sits on futon – almost growling.

She doesn't mind that he growls. Dogs growl too and she likes dogs. Dog are good and loyal. They always come back home, even if you are cruel and send them away for their own good because they've been accused of murder. So she doesn't mind if Eliot always growls at her. It means he is good and loyal to her, and he will always come back to her, even if she accidentally kills someone while stabbing them with a fork, and he ends up accused of murder because of her.

"The apples fell." she explains.

It's not like he couldn't see it for himself.

"I thought you went shopping with Hardison."

"I did. I brought apples."

He looks at her "You went to Melrose and you brought... apples?" he asked, without really waiting for an answer. "Why did I ask?" He mutters to himself. In Parker's mind, there was a logical reason… probably.

"Hardison wanted to buy me clothes, but he is not good at picking them. They were all voluminous and impractical and I didn't like them. Besides I only buy black stuff good to go unnoticed when I break into someplace."

"I bet" he nods.

"And I saw this sign on the way that said _One apple a day keeps the doctor away_ so since you don't want to see a doctor, I thought I could buy you apples." she explains, still holding her paper bag like it's something very precious.

He doesn't blink. The piece of information reaches his brain and goes lower, finally getting to his heart and goddamn it, it tugged at its strings. _Damn Parker. _"I'm not sick, Parker." he explains "I only need some resting," his bruise will heal like they always do, and he took care by himself of his fractured bone as he's always been used to. Still it's nice that she thought of him in her own, twisted, way.

"You can rest, and eat apples." she answers "Right?"

"Right," he nods.

"Good," she says taking one apple from the ones left in the bag "Eat" she adds throwing it at him.

He bites the green apple in his hand, almost tempted to check for a razor in the process.

"Where's Hardison?"

"He's waiting for me in the car."

"Then you should go."

"I'm waiting for you to eat your apple."

Eliot smiles and gives another bite while she watches him intently.

"You should buy a nice dress." he suggests.

She looks dubious. It's not really her expertise area. Sophie wasn't very happy about the results of her last shopping session.

"Like that's something easy. It's not like breaking into the Vatican Museums to steal a Fabergè" she protest with a sarcastic expression he's pretty sure shouldn't be on her face after saying such a thing "How do I know it's nice?"

"You look in the mirror and if you like the way you look in it, you buy it."

"I like myself like this." she says "Don't you like me?"

He doesn't really know how to answer that. She's the strange thief, with child-like ways and no attitude for discipline, and she makes him crazy half the time.

"Well... you're pretty…" he tells her, a bit embarrassed. "But it doesn't mean that you can't buy something nice. Maybe something… not-so short since your legs are... since you wouldn't be too comfortable." He corrects himself. "And you could pick something crimson, or emerald green."

"I think I should go shopping with you." She says, because he looks far more experienced in this kind of thing then her and Hardison.

He's pretty sure this is not what the tech had in mind for their day off.

"I- I need to rest." he tells her.

"The apple isn't working?" she inquires.

"It's working just fine." he reassures her "But I need to rest, anyway."

He likes that she's having some sort of relationship with a nice guy like Hardison. He knows too well how cruel men can be, and he doesn't need to worry about Hardison not being kind or patient with her. They have the first grade sweet kind of romance. Not to mention he doesn't need to tell Hardison he can break any bone of his body if he hurts her feelings, because that's already _very_ clear to him.

"Okay, I'll go now. You rest," she says and then she literally jumps into his arms.

"What are you doing?" He asks completely taken aback, while she holds onto his battered body.

"There was this doctor on TV yesterday saying something about the hug therapy," she explains, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"Am I making you feel better?" To tell the truth she's pressing on his bruises, so no one would say that she is. However, he's used to much worse.

"Yes, Parker" he says, keeping one hand at the centre of her back, and the other arm around her. "You are," and it's not a complete lie after all.


	4. Come fly with me

"Man, I hate this job!" Hardison says emphatically, looking down at the blue work shirt he's wearing "Where the hell do they buy these shirts? It's not like I need scrubs, man! This is going to irritate my skin!" he protests and Eliot looks at him – the part of the ten pounds airplane wing he's carrying on his shoulder is biting at his flesh through his shirt material.

"Really Hardison? _Really_?" Eliot asks angrily.

He's working his ass off from five in the morning while Hardison is strolling around the location with his folder and his pencil, whining endlessly.

Hardison blinks, looking a bit offended. "I have sensitive skin."

"I know, _Flower,_" Eliot replies, clearly not happy about his complains.

"Are you questioning my manhood?" The tech makes sure to look hurt. Eliot makes sure to look like he doesn't give a fuck- which he doesn't.

"No, you _are._" he explains. They are both distracted by Parker.

"Hey guys, what's up?" When she doesn't get a reply, she looks at them. "Are you having fun?" She asks, resting her eyes on Eliot.

"I've been working like a slave lifting airplane parts for the last eight hours." he informs her, even if she should have noticed it by now.

"Uh huh," she nods. "Are you having fun?"

In Parker's mind Eliot is the strongest person in the world. He's invincible, so all that lifting and carrying and stuff must be only entertainment for him. Clearly.

He shakes his head and leaves them both standing there. He has work to do, after all, until the last part of the plan starts in about fifteen minutes.

The conversation between the thief and the tech is barely registered by his brain because he's working, and yet concentrating on making sure no harm comes to them.

"You know…" Parker says, watching intently to the turbine turning fast on the other side of the site, while being tested. "I think I could manage to slip through the propellers."

Hardison is completely set on being the supportive boyfriend so he nods enthusiastically. "Of course, with time..."

"I have time" she says, thinking it over. Don't they have fifteen minutes before the last part of the con?

He's not really listening to her, while he puts on his perfect-caring-boyfriend show.

"I like your strong attitude." The tech compliments her. "Yes, there's nothing you can't do. I say, go for it, girl! You should totally throw yourself into this!"

"Yeah!" she nods with wide eyes and a sinister smile before heading toward the turbines, being then abruptly stopped by a strong arm closed around her waist.

"Don't," Eliot hisses against her ear.

She pouts and turns her eyes to look at him with a discontent expression on her face.

"Why not?"

_Because I don't want to pick up shreds of your body from the walls?_ He's about to say, but that would lead to an endless, draining conversation she would not spare him or understand, the way any human being would. So he settles for "Parker, just... don't. _Please._" and he hisses the last word, while his arm around her unconsciously tightens, pressing her nimble body against his. Back against chest; her blonde, vanilla scented hair luring his nose.

"Man, what are you doing?"

Eliot rolls his eyes. "You're supposed to be the smart one, Romeo." he growls "No _throwing _or _jumping_ references when you're talking to her," he adds, forgetting that he's still holding on Parker. She doesn't mind that; in fact his embrace is pretty comfortable. She rests her head against his shoulder, not paying any attention to what he and Hardison are saying.

"I _am_ the smart one." The tech protests "It's not like she was about to-"

Hardison stops speaking when Eliot raises his eyebrows, daring him to continue the sentence.

"She wasn't about to-" he starts only to stop once again. He stares at Eliot's explanatory expression.

"She's not _that _crazy." Hardison declares shaking his head.

"She's _Parker,_" Eliot states. Simply.

Hardison gasps, and take a look at the smiling girl leaning against Eliot.

"You have a point." He concedes.

When the job is over Eliot stitches his cut on the shoulder using his free arm; he's so used to this that he could cross-stitch his wounds in his sleep. Parker is sitting two feet away from him, chomping her cornflakes. Both of them are listening to Hardison whining about his moisturizer bottle being empty already, which does not surprise the Hitter, considering how much he did put on himself in the last ten minutes.

Finally, Hardison stops complaining.

"What's this noise?" he asks after a few moments of silence on his part.

"My nerves' cry of joy?" Eliot asks ironically looking at his, now fixed, shoulder.

"Ah-ah,"

Parker giggles and continues chewing her cornflakes.

"It's coming from Nate's office." Hardison says "Some old song."

Eliot looks at him with resignation. "That would be Frank Sinatra," he clarifies with an annoyed tone.

"They're dancing..." Hardison gathers with a smile, and then turns to Parker "Would you grant me this dance?"

Eliot watches her nodding, and then she stands up to rush out of the room.

"Wait!"

She stops and turns around with a puzzled expression.

"Where are you going?" Hardison asks her.

"To take my ropes" she explain like it's crystal clear "Or you will kill my feet"

Their only dance was with her hanging in the air, tied to her ropes.

"It's not-I'm not that bad"

Eliot won't hide his amusement, and his friend turns to him, daring him to laugh in his face.

Eliot is only more amused.

"Oh, yeah, man. Like you can do better." Hardison replied.

"You don't wanna know." He tries to cut the argument there.

"You don't want to embarrass yourself?" Of course the tech won't let up.

"Yeah, see? I knew it. Thank my humility if I'm not spending the next hour bragging about this. You should know your limits, that's all I'm saying, man. You see, it's totally different when you're the one-"

"Enough, Fred Astaire"

Eliot sighs, standing up to extend his hand to Parker, whom is on the other side of the room.

He doesn't ask, only stares at her.

"And I don't need the ropes?" she asks, confused.

He smiles "Don't think so, darlin'"

She only nods and goes to take his hand.

Mastering the arts of fighting takes time, patience and hard work. It teaches you grace and rhythm, and that's the reason why Parker finds herself turning and swinging and having fun; following Eliot's lead. She moves easily, because he would never let her fall, nor let any harm come to her. She even closes her eyes.

Parker giggles. Eliot's voice is around her, and it feels like he's smiling inside her head.

It's a luxury to be able to feel so safe when you are not the one in control, she discovers. One day Eliot Spencer gave her that luxury, and he never took it away from her.

She likes it.

The song is quickly over and she feels a bit dizzy, standing against him when he steadies her with his hands.

"Enjoyed the ride?" he asks, smiling.

"Yes" she nods. The thief looks at him all bright and a bit flushed, and Eliot guides her to the couch to let her sit. Somewhere behind him Hardison mutters '_I hate you',_ knowing he will pick on him forever because of this.

He will surely do that.

Parker is still a bit dizzy; it feels good. She wonders if this is what Sophie means when she says that Eliot makes ladies' heads spin.


	5. They're in the silence

The con went perfectly, and Nate wants to offer them a drink – go figure. Eliot quickly refuses, giving his earbud to Hardison. He turns his back on the team to go back into the Medical Centre they just shut down.

"See you, guys," it's all he says, marching inside the building like he's going to war.

"What are you doing?" Sophie asks, puzzled.

"Left something inside," he answers not bothering turning around.

"Hey, it's not like I'm begging you to come with us." Hardison yells after him, but he doesn't get any reply.

"I'm not gonna miss you!" He yells again "_At all!_" He adds, and then mumbles "Do you think he believed me?"

No one answers him. Eliot is already inside.

"This is strange. Even for our standards," Nate decides.

"This is not good."

Parker looks worried, which is quite scary. She doesn't usually look much of anything. She can look happy, or sad, sometimes. Usually she just looks blank. Genuinely worried is a part of the repertoire she never resorted to. Nate tries hard to recall a moment when he saw her worried but can't.

"No, I think you're right."

The con didn't go _so_ perfectly as they thought, after all.

"What are you doing?" Nate asks behind the heavy iron door. The plaque on it says _Morgue._

"I'm taking a day off…" Eliot replies.

"And you pick some dead guy to spend your time with instead of me?" Hardison asks, on the first impulse.

"That should say something to you." he can hear Eliot mumbling inside.

"You're hurting my feelings here, man."

"Guys, give me a break. Go home."

Parker has her fists and her forehead pressed against the door. The whole floor is cold, and inside that room it must be colder.

"What was it?" Nate asks, but gets nothing. "What drug did he inject you with?" he tightens his jaw, and tries to clear his head. There is a long pause. Hardison and Sophie both turn to look at him. Parker stays pressed against the door, her sad eyes low on the floor.

"Lysergic acid diethylamide…"

Nate sighs "LSD-25" and Hardison is already looking up on the net trying to know what the hell it means in terms of effects; he just knows that he won't like them.

"It's about to kick in" Eliot adds "Ten minutes, at most"

Hardison starts to read off his findings. "Effects are: numbness, weakness, nausea, hypothermia – which is very likely to happen since you locked yourself into a damn fridge – increase in heart rate, tremors and some other nor-really-nice things. Oh, aside from physiological effects which if the user is in a hostile or otherwise unsettling environment are: hallucinations, panic attacks, violent behaviours, and other stuff I'm sure no one of us wants to hear about."

"How long does it last?" Sophie's voice is very low.

"Six to twelve hours,"

"This is stupid, man. Come out, we need to take you to the hospital!" Hardison yells.

"No, you need to go away!_"_

"Are you out of your mind? What are you doing?"

"My job,"

"What the hell that's supposed to-"

"He's keeping us safe." Parker only whispers, yet her words sting and Hardison closes his mouth. Sophie only nods while Nate wants to find a way to break down the door. Ironically, he would need Eliot to do that.

Parker spoke in such a small voice that Eliot did not hear her. He just knows they are still there, so he tries to overcome their doubts.

"I'll be fine."

"You can't expect us to leave you in there..." Sophie replies.

While Sophie speaks the tech watches as Parker walks through the hallway. The blonde girl signals Hardison to help her. He hardly manages to, but she reaches the air duct, slipping inside of it while its pane falls to the ground with loud crash.

Eliot can hear that too.

"What are you doing?" no one answers him, and his patience is slipping "I told you to go. I'll be back tomorrow."

"Listen, Eliot. It's okay, we can-" but Sophie can't finish her sentence because the Hitter's voice is louder then hers.

"Parker!" he sounds angry, and the team can do much but stay there. Waiting. Trying hard to listen to the conversation inside the morgue, only getting parts of it.

Eliot sees Parker's hands moving behind the grating of the air duct, about to push to slip inside the cold room.

"Stop right there!" He orders her. She blows to move a lock of hair away from her face and looks at him through the holes of the grating.

He looks more than a little put out by her presence. And suddenly she looks sad.

"C'mon" he's looking up at her and through his eyes he's telling her more or less '_be good and go back to the others, this is just a meaningless inconvenience.'_ She's not sure if there is a '_please'_ at the end of the sentence. It's not like it change a thing, after all.

"I'm staying with you." Her voice is very small, but she looks adamant about it.

Eliot is bothered by her attitude, and a bit moved. She needs to go away. He needs to know she's safe with the others while he wears off the drug.

"I don't want you here." he tells her harshly "You'll only be a pain in the ass, and I have my own business to worry about right now!"Eliot watches her intently, his expression hard and unreadable "Don't you hear me? Get out of my sight!".

He hates himself for a long list of good reasons, so what's one more if it keeps her safe?

Parker blinks. Her eyes seem watery but he can't tell from where he is. He can feel his heart slowly sinking, and his own voice in his head cursing him in five languages. Then out of the blue she smiles her brighter smile.

"It won't work. Try again,"

He growls - and he does try again "I could hurt you."

"You wouldn't,"

He's getting jittery. Just once he wishes she would listen to him.

"Once the drugs have kicked in I will not control myself. I will have hallucinations, and it's very likely that I become violent and smash down this damn place." He explains, trying to concentrate on her, rather than to notice that he already feels anxious and cold. He blinks, fighting the effect that shit is having on his eyes. His vision blurs a little.

"I will hurt you." he says, in hope to scare her enough to make her come to her senses.

"You will not." She looks so sure when she says that, that he is tempted to believe her. "You have my back, don't you?" she asks, expectantly.

"Of course I do," there's no question on that. "But you should go back to the others. Go buy that drink." He winks at her. "Eat cookies, and watch TV…" he tries once again to convince her.

"I'm staying with you." She insists "Besides, I only like your cookies."

Eliot shakes his head.

"Parker, you are..."

"Crazy," she offers, and then smiles at him.

He smiles too, softly "Yes. That you are." He sighs heavily. "But, darlin', there is no point in you staying, really. I can take care of myself."

"I know" she nods and then rest her chin on the back of her hands, flat against the foil of the air duct. "But you always take care of me. So I want to take care of you, too. I can stay in here, and we can chat."

"Five minutes at most and I won't be fit for anything." he tells her.

"It's okay. I like being with you, even when you don't say a thing." She tells him, with no embarrassment or fuss.

All this honesty is unsettling, really. Eliot wants to look away, but he doesn't have the heart to break their connection. She's trying hard to be there for him, and he doesn't want her to feel rejected or useless. She's neither.

He nods, then sits on a metal chair. They just keep on looking at each other, in some kind of silent conversation.

On the other side of the door Hardison just ordered Chinese for everyone.

**Note: I'm not sure I'm happy with this fiction. I'm currently working on the next chapter, but after that, who knows...**


	6. Warm and near and accessible

Just one last push and the grate falls with a loud crash.

Jumping down from the air duct is easy; when her feet touch the ground she can hear the sound of her steps, and with them, the slowness of them. She's been laying down in that duct watching and waiting and biting her lower lip, only able to murmur nonsense. It sounded the way she supposes prayers sound, while Eliot fought his invisible demons. She knows those are the worst. That's the reason why when it got bad, she found herself not able to shut up _("leave him alone"- _like they would ever listen to her- "_don't hurt him."). _She wasn't as good as Eliot at scaring away her fears, she supposed it had something to do with his growl.

He has his back against the wall, his legs are outstretched on the tiling and his blue eyes are open and empty, stubbornly fixed behind her. She's kneeling right beside him. She bends over further because she's so scared he's dead, that she could be there and just stare at him for all her life.

Her ear presses above his heart and she can hear it clearly. She's so relieved that she giggles and let her weight fall on him, circling him with both her arms and rubbing her face into his large chest. She decides he has the prettiest heartbeat in the world and that she likes his smell (but she better not tell him, because he'd find that very girly and get mad at her).

"Parker!" She hears the voices on the outside and she pout. It's not every day that she gets to have a prone-to-hug Eliot, since it's doesn't happen often that he gets drugged and hallucinates. (Maybe she could drug him every now and then, would he mind that much?) Parker huffs and raises from him, slipping her hand carefully in the pocket of his blue jeans. Their eyes meet, he blinks slowly and she looks at him warily - but he barely can grumble his confusion. She raises the hand in front of her face letting the key swing from the ring she holds with her fingers so he can see she took them from him.

When she lets the team in, Nate and Hardison help him stand, or at least they try, because the tech is about to fall down more than once. Eliot still manages to tell him that when they'll do a con against a cheerleader, he'll let him do his job and watch Hardison get his ass kicked.

She sits in the back of the van and rubs her eyes every time she feels like she's about to cry – which is often. Because Eliot is never weak, never scared, never un-Eliot. She's sorry he had to be and she's happy he doesn't have to be anymore. She can't understand which one makes her want to cry more.

Parker is the one to open the door of Eliot's apartment. From the inside.

He looks at her confused, one eyebrow arches up and he looks murderous for a few seconds. He's really fast at recovering.

When he lands on the futon he closes his eyes immediately, mumbling a "Thanks for the ride. Go 'way."

Parker does. Just to steal what's left of their Chinese meal and go back.

She sits lotus style in his bedroom with a bowl of cereal and a spoon, watching him sleep and thinking – while she's chewing - that is really a lucky coincidence that he brought her favourite cereal. Yes, a passed-out-Eliot to hug and her favourite cereal, it must really be her lucky day.

He's not so un-Eliot anymore, so she's not worried. Since she's not worried she gets bored so she wanders around to give a good look at his house. He has no TV, just a stereo and two guitars. There's a very equipped kitchen annexed to a living room, a big bathroom, a guest room and an exercise room. She tries the punching bag, but gets bored soon. She settles for holding onto it with her arms and her legs, while it swings back and forth .

She counts four hunting knives, six jack-knives, ten sliding knives, six combat knives, ten bayonets, twenty throwing knives, five trench knives, two shivs (he got very angry at her when she thought they were screwdriver so now it's very unlikely that she'll get it wrong again), one dagger and two chef knife professional sets. She supposes he can kill a man with a butter knife.

His place has many windows, and is full of light. (He spent enough time holed into a pit, stuck behind a trench, hidden under dead bodies, being tortured inside some dark, stinking room covered in dried blood and mud, so he likes light, but she doesn't know. She just knows that his house is accessible and so she can break in whenever she wants to). Hers, it's a warehouse with a big bed – so she can jump on it – ropes hanging from the ceiling, boards and schemes of her favourite security systems; and even when the lights are on it's still very dark. She's a thief; if anyone sees her then her career is over, no fun for Parker anymore. That's why she must blend in the dark, so she does. That's why she doesn't like light very much; she doesn't know how Eliot can live like that. She supposes it's not a problem for him to be exposed – it's the ones who expose him that get a big problem, really.

She could live like that too, if Eliot was nearby.

Going back in his room, she realizes his hair is actually a big mess, so she searches into his bathroom for a hairbrush and then starts disentangling it for him. Her heart beats faster when she feels his hair around her fingers (Eliot can scare people even in his sleep; awesome).

When he opens his eyes, two hours later, he's on his stomach, his head turned, and she's laying on her side, facing him.

He looks relaxed (maybe he really wouldn't mind that much to be drugged every now and then). He reaches out with his hand and cups her cheek and she lets him.

His hand is very warm, and suddenly she feels very warm too, inside her belly, which it's strange, because he's touching her face. Maybe it's some kind of superpower he gathered from the drug, like it happened with Spiderman.

He's looking at her and his eyes are bluer and she can't move her body. She moves her eyes, looking around the room and then at him again. Eliot is leaning in, and she stops breathing, until he's very, _very_ near to her face, and then... he's mad at her, again.

"Parker!" He seems surprised, which it's quite strange, because he's been staring at her for at least a full minute.

He licks at his lips. She feels suddenly warm inside her belly, again – yep, Spiderman's powers. He turns to lay down on his back and rub his face with both of his hands.

"What?" she kneels by his side and bent over him to look at his eyes "Are you feeling better?"

"Much,"

"Good. You should eat. I stole Chinese." She says, standing to take the bag with the food.

"Are you alright?"

She turns, her hair moving around her, and she looks a little like a ballerina. All thin and graceful, and very easy to break. Eliot stares at her, warily. Inspecting her the same way his seniors did with him in the army.

"Me?" she asks back, pointing her index finger at herself, confused by his question.

"Yeah, you Parker. Do you see anyone else in here?"

"Is that a trick question?" she asks looking around.

"Parker…" he growls, sounding very frustrated.

"I'm fine" she says, shrugging. The she realizes what he's asking "You raized the place to the ground," she tells him "but you didn't hurt me."

It was the truth; in fact he even calmed down whenever she spoke to him, which was kind of funny because when he is not drugged and she speaks to him, he only gets jittery and restless. Like a lion locked into a cage.

Eliot nods.

"I'm taking the food." she says.

"No, you're not." He warns her, and she turns to him with a pout.

"Why not? I want my cereal!"

"Because this is a bedroom, Parker." he tells her, with his matter-of-fact voice "And you only do two things into a bedroom, you sleep or you-" he stops just in time.

She watches him intently, waiting for the next part.

"What?"

"You...uhm... take a nap." He adds weakly.

"It isn't the same as sleeping?" she asks, confused.

"This is not the point." he raises his voice so he'll scare out of the subject.

"What's the point?"

"The point is: go in the kitchen. I'll be there in a minute."

Parker obeys him with a shrug and he's more relieved than when he defeated a Yakuza member just in time to go to his nephew's First Communion.

"Hey, Eliot," she calls him from the kitchen.

"What?"

"How cool is that we've got the same favourite cereal?" she yells.

He shakes his head. A ghost of a smile plays on his lips. He doesn't eat cereal.

"Yeah, how cool." He yells back.


	7. Filling memories backwards

_**Dedicated to fatewalker. Happy birthday dear.**_

His eyes open at the first ring of the phone. Eliot searches his brain for anything that can explain a phone call at three in the morning, while reaching out to pick his cell abandoned on the floor. He can't find any logic explanation, which it's totally fitting considering who's the one calling him.

"What?" he asks, sitting on the futon.

"Hi, Eliot. How are you?"

At least she's showing some manners. He had his ninety minutes of sleep, so he doesn't snap at her, even if it would be perfectly understandable of him.

"I'm fine, Parker."

"That's good." she says, and then stalls into silence.

"Did you call me at three in the morning just to ask me that?"

"Not really,"

And yet she's silent. He has this vague memory of her bothering the hell out of him, chasing him around to know what's _sex-ting_; if she called to raise the level of awkwardness between them and ask him about sex-phone – God help him - he'll just get up, go to Hardison and break all of his fingers so he will stop spending his nights on his computer instead of with his girlfriend and he won't have to put up with this anymore.

Last time they've been alone he woke up with her laying next to him and didn't realize she wasn't a dream or a hallucination, that he could kiss without the world crashing down all around them, until he was close enough to feel her breath.

He kicks away that image from his mind.

But suddenly there's an alarm in his brain, and he's getting up from his bed. Fast.

"Are you hurt? Did someone kidnap you?" His retrieval specialist mind-set is already defining the faster and most efficient way to proceed with her retrieval before breakfast time. However, she tells him she's _'fine, fabulous, well I did lose the chance to break into my favourite's security system company party, but I guess I can just go and watch their new product once it get installed at the City National Bank, so-'_

"Parker!" this time he does snap, interrupting her.

"Uh"

"Why did you call me?" He's trying to be patient here, really, but she's making it very hard on him.

"I couldn't sleep."

"I am not your personal entertainer."

"You don't talk that much." she agrees.

"Then why did you call me?"

"Because you're the only one that would answer," she states simply - all the others are sleeping right now. "Would you come with me to the Museum?"

"You mean, in the morning?" He asks, confused.

"No, I mean right now." She answers. "I can bypass their system entering by a window that's on the-"

"Why don't you just watch some TV? Or try reading a book?" He suggests. She should try normal sometimes, she could even enjoy it – maybe.

"I don't have any, which it's a pity because children on TV always fall asleep right away when someone read them a story. Books must very boring. I don't know why they print the whole thing if they never go past third page."

Eliot's brain is absorbing the information and he finds himself connecting the dots. Picturing Parker as a kid. In his mind she's all blond and wild and innocent. In his mind she's all alone.

"No one ever read anything to you?"

"Of course they did, _Silly._" He can hear a smile in her voice "When I was eleven, an officer read me my rights, but he didn't seem very nice so I didn't stay in the car where he had handcuffed me."

"It's not really the same as a book…" His voice is soft, but the room is so empty and silent that it reaches her just the same.

"I know. Books are longer." There's curiosity in her voice. "You like them. You're always reading when we've got nothing to do."

"Yeah, I like them." There is this little ache inside of him, and he's trying hard to find the right words to take it away but he knows he can't. The problem is not what there is, it's what is missing.

There's this voice inside of him – maybe his conscience, he never listened to it until he got stuck with his messed up team, so he can't really tell. It says _'Of course she's a thief, they stole from her first.'_

Someone – someone he so very badly wants to beat into a bloody pulp that can't be identified as human being, because he's left nothing solid or bigger then a rice grain – took away her childhood, and he would like to steal it back for her.

He can't do that, so he must settle for something simple, more immediate.

"Would you like me to read to you?" he asks, going to open one of the white sliding doors behind which he has his handmade library shelves.

"Would you? Do I need to do something?"

"Just lay down on your bed, put your phone next to your ear and relax."

He can hear the eagerness in the way she breathes, and he lets his fingers touch his books, all lined up on the shelves he made, looking for something she would like.

He's already picked _Arsene Lupin versus Sherlock Holmes_when he remembers an old, wore out copy of _The Little Prince _buried into a corner of the lower shelf. He can keep _Maurice LeBlanc_ for later, he thinks. He takes his glasses, he sits on the futon with one light one and starts reading.

"_Once when I was six years old I saw a beautiful picture in a book about the primeval forest called True Stories-"_

"That's a strange name for a forest, don't you think?"

"Yes" he concedes.

"But it's pretty."

"Yes, it is."

"Go on,"

And he does continue; even after she stops him to asks him mere nothings, or to say that there's nothing bad about liking figures – which doesn't surprise him.

"_I know a planet where there is a certain red-faced gentleman. He had never smelled a flower. He has never looked at a star. He has never loved any one. He has never done anything in his life but add up figures-"_

"That must be-" But she doesn't end her sentence. He thinks she's probably trying to figure out if that's sad or beautiful "Go on…"

"_If you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life__…"_ Eliot can hear her holding her breath. Like a happy child, or a little girl waiting her first kiss.

He's got things to do, his vegetables to fertilize and bread to make but, right now, he can't help but be glad she called him.

"Are you still there?" He asks, just to push her a little, to listen to her eager voice reassuring him. He wants to hear, "I'm here, right here. Didn't move an inch," and then beg "Please, continue."

He smiles at her tender rapture, wishing he could fill the void in her memories. Wishing he could look at that lonely kid in the eyes, and take her by the hand and bring her somewhere safe. Somewhere warm.

But you can never go back, only forward.

"_...You see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the colour of gold._ _Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat…"_

He thinks this is more or less the point when Parker started to slip peacefully into sleep, leaving him alone into a grain-field with the first lights of dawn shyly spreading in the sky behind his windows. He wonders if she will like to listen to Lupin's adventures next time. He bets she will.


End file.
